


Drowning on dry land

by Mangacat



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Coda, Depression, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, episode s06e10 'The trial', reference to imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started creeping in at the moment of his indictment and has only ever grown stronger since. That gut feeling every good lawyer has when they look at a case and work with everything they have, but still know they’ll be glad to close that folder on the file, and it won’t be a good glad, but a ‘oh thank god that’s over, poor sod, need to move on’. He’s not on the outside looking in anymore. This is his life now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning on dry land

**Author's Note:**

> ***Please be advised this fic contains spoilers for the semi-season finale S06E10***
> 
>  
> 
> So, after watching the latest episode of The Good Wife, I was once again struck by Matt Czuchry’s performance that screamed of all the things going on beneath the surface and my brain went ‘not enough, not enough, not enough’ (basically what I’ve felt whenever he was on screen this season) which of course is my on-switch to go find fic. Naturally, I found none, because it’s the day after and TGW is not a big fic fandom, which then led me to the conclusion that if I want some, I’ll have to write it myself. So there… also, this is co-incidentally a perfect fill for my hc_bingo square ‘purgatory’. And I want to say thanks to [silkylustre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/silkylustre/pseuds/silkylustre) for the quick-n-dirty beta and valuable editorial input towards the eradication of run-on sentences.

He feels like he’s spent much of his life in a bubble. Not the kind that denies the reality of the world as it is today or keeps him from seeing harsh fates that befall people. It’s the kind that gives him the comfortable space of confidence, the notion that as long as he works hard and sets out to do what’s right, bad things, unjust things won’t touch him.  
And for most people that works out just fine all their lives.  
But here he is now, an innocent man weighing the choice of condemning himself, giving up the privilege of the actual truth, to mitigate a punishment that scares him almost more than death.  
Luck of the draw. 

Cary slips out of Bishop’s posh SUV, doesn’t watch it pull away from the curb as he turns to continue his journey through the streets and wonders at the very strange and calamitous mix of a person he is. Just a little less principled and loyal to the people who’ve worked so hard with him to create a dream into something real, and he could have taken the offer. Could have run away from the law that’s in his bones and drives his spirit. Just a little less cowardly and he would decide to testify, reveal that Bishop is every inch the man who lives off the continuous ruin of others, who deserves to have his palace of lies broken apart, despite the fact that Cary’s life would likely be a sacrifice along the way.  
A little less loudmouth and ambitious and arrogant and trusting. 

All the steps lead him here, to this curious middle ground, where he ends up the judge of his own sins, not an entity weighing his heart against a feather or separating the fabric of his soul into black and white. Just him, and the different paths laid out in front of him. The choice of what he’s willing to keep, what he’s willing to give up, what he’s willing to gamble, and what he’s willing to endure. 

It shouldn’t make him feel powerful, it shouldn’t, because it’s the most fucked up situation to be in, to see the system you’ve championed and revered and defended fail you so spectacularly. But he’s felt unmoored and incredulous by all the blows up to now – so, the fact that it’s his decision and his alone, how to play the hand he’s been dealt,… it makes him feel stronger and less adrift now than at any given moment in the past couple of months. The choice is already made, he knows, the only course of action left is his deliverance of the verdict to those who’ve fought on his behalf. Not the law, but those who embody it and those who subvert it both. How did he ever think there would be wriggle room for him to slip out of this? He doesn’t know. 

It’s not like he’s not afraid. In fact, he’s terrified out of his mind, fists balled inside his pockets so his nails dig into the thin, barely faded scar on his palm, a reminder that the trial won’t be over once he leaves the courtroom. It’ll have only just begun. So he walks on, even though the deliberations are done already, the dice have fallen, but he keeps himself in this space, this realm of in between, just a little while longer, before he opens the gates of hell. 

It’s not really a conscious decision which leads him back, but when Cary finds himself in the silent elevator, going up towards the offices of the firm, he has to press his trembling shoulders against the smooth wood paneling in an effort to stay upright. With each floor that flicks by, his time in purgatory draws closer to the end. It figures that Saint Alicia would be waiting for him when the doors open, but for once he’s not bitter when he looks at her after these past few weeks. She understands what it is to have everything and nothing and when she hugs him close after he’s told her what’s going to happen next, he’s able to take genuine comfort and strength from her embrace.  
Because he trusts her to come, no matter where he ends up. 

 

“Would you like to revise your plea, Mr. Argos?”  
“Yes, your Honour. I would like to plead guilty.”


End file.
